Something Good Coming
by Letters to Ghosts
Summary: Rayna & Deacon finding their way back to each other after the events of the S1 finale. (AU)
1. Chapter 1

"I swear, it's easier to get into a plane," Tandy quipped as she stepped into Rayna's hospital room holding a large vase of light purple dahlias.

"For the record, I still think it's ridiculous."

It was Bucky who, two days ago, had suggested they hire private security to keep watch in front of Rayna's door after a zealous fan had managed to bypass hospital security and had almost made it to her room. Rayna wasn't thrilled about the idea but Tandy had – without surprise – sided with Bucky. Majority ruled.

Tandy settled the vase on the room's table and rearranged it before she removed her coat, dragged a chair towards Rayna's bed and plopped herself down.

Her sister motioned to the bouquet with a smile. "You thought I didn't have enough of those?"

Tandy glanced around. Roses, daisies, peonies, orchids. It was worse than Rayna's dressing room before a show. Her curiosity piqued, she stood up and started rummaging through the cards attached to the flowers when one in particular grabbed her attention.

"I see you'll do anything for flowers, love," she read aloud.

"Liam McGuinnis," Rayna explained, amused despite herself. How very Liam of him.

Tandy sighed and what came next sounded more reproachful than she had intended. "You should have taken that plane to St. Lucia."

Even in light of the recent turn of events, Rayna was certain that showing up on Deacon's doorstep instead of driving to the airport that night was the only choice she was meant to make. But she wouldn't have expected her sister to understand.

"Tandy?"

"Yeah?"

"How is he doing?"

There was little doubt as to whom she was referring to.

"He's home, you're in a hospital bed. That's all there is to know."

"I need to see him."

"Rayna–"

"I _need_ to see him."

How many times had Tandy heard these exact same words from Rayna before. She knew it was a lost battle to argue with her, but she made it her sisterly duty to try anyway.

"He's the reason you're here."

"He's not. I was the one driving."

"You wouldn't have been in this car if he hadn't been too drunk to drive."

"And I wouldn't have been in this car if I hadn't chased him to the parking. And maybe he wouldn't have been drunk in the first place if I had told him about Maddie sooner and he hadn't found out like that. And maybe he would never have started to drink altogether if he hadn't had such a shitty childhood. This is pointless."

She had learned a long time ago it was best not to play torturous _what if_ games when it came to her relationship with Deacon.

"The only truth is," she added, "it was an _accident_."

* * *

She was sitting in a wheelchair on the hospital's terrace, enjoying the sun and the view of Nashville's skyline for the first time since the accident, when she saw him. She watched him cast an apprehensive look around the terrace. When his eyes found hers, she waved briefly. For a second, he freezed and she wondered if he was going to change his mind, turn around without a word and it was another one of those things they would pretend never happened.

But he walked her way.

"A nurse told me you were here."

"Remy and I needed some sunlight," Rayna said with a little smile, her finger pointed at a man in a dark suit seated at a table some distance behind them. The man aknowledged Deacon's presence with a nod. "Bucky's idea, don't ask," she added.

"Sounds like a good idea to me."

They stared at each other, neither of them seemingly knowing how to start this conversation.

"I wasn't sure you would come."

"I didn't think you would want to see me."

After she had woken up from surgery, she had learned he had made it with bad bruises and muscle strains but no major injury. It was only later she had heard from Scarlett about the altercation with Teddy and his leaving the hospital once he was sure she was going to be alright.

"Can we talk?"

He didn't answer, he hauled a chair next to her wheelchair and sat down. They could have danced around the issue for a while but she knew what she wanted to tell him, what she needed to tell him.

"It wasn't your fault."

He closed his eyes. He rubbed his face with a trembling hand, exhaled a deep, slow breath he felt he had held since the accident.

"It wasn't your fault," she said again and he fought back tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I know."

He leaned his head forwards, rested his forearms on his thighs, his fingers laced. Without thinking, she ran a hand through his hair.

"Deacon." A pause. "Since the accident, have you—"

"No," he interrupted. He had also renounced taking any pain medication. The first few days had been hell but he didn't want her to know that.

"We have a choice here." Her voice was calm and collected. "We can pretend it was a sign or some crap like that and decide we have to go our separate ways again. It will hold for a few weeks, a few months maybe but I know – _I know_ – it won't last. I don't want that. For the first time, there's nothing standing between us anymore and even if I have no idea what it looks like at the moment, I want us to try. _Really_ try." She gave him a moment to absorb her words. "Do you?"

He didn't need to think about it. "I do."

* * *

Rayna had been back home for almost three weeks when Deacon got the call: _Maddie wanted to see him._ They hadn't seen each other since that day on the hospital's terrace – she didn't leave home for much else than physical therapy and he wasn't going to visit at her house, not with Tandy around – but they had been speaking on the phone. It had started with occasional calls which had evolved into daily late-night conversations where they talked about Rayna's recovery, about Deacon's sobriety, about them.

About Maddie.

They had agreed they would wait for Maddie to decide when she would be ready. Deacon knew his venture into fatherhood had begun in the worst of ways, the very same way that had prevented him to be a father 14 years ago. Maddie had been asking Rayna all kinds of questions these last few days. She had dug up old articles about them online, some of which Rayna would have preferred had stayed buried.

When Deacon picked up his phone, Rayna finally said those seven words she had imagined telling him for years.

"Your daughter wants to talk to you."

* * *

 _TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

Deacon slowed down and pulled over. He grabbed two coffee cups from a carton holder on the passenger seat before he hopped out of his truck.

"Told you we should have booked," he joked as he jogged towards Rayna who was waiting for him on the little bridge's stone railing instead of their preferred spot on the wooden park table.

"I was too optimistic when I thought I could somehow jump that wall."

His concern rose quickly. "Ray."

"I'm fine."

He spotted her car parked at the other end of the bridge even though she had assured him someone would give her a ride. He wondered if she was cleared to drive, but given the circumstances, he couldn't think of a way to ask that wouldn't come off as tactless. He handed her a cup and sat next to her on the railing.

"Dinner last night was fun," she commented.

Deacon had started to spend time with Rayna and the girls at her house. They had decided to take it slow, give everyone enough time to adjust and find their place in this current equation.

This was new for them. They had fallen in love in all of ten minutes, had moved in together when she was 17. Their relationship had been fast-paced, all-consuming, their decisions only guided by their love for music and each other. Slow was new for them. _Mundane_ was new for them.

"And Tandy didn't try to poison my food or slash my tires so I guess we can call it an all-around success."

"She wouldn't do anything that would _prevent_ you to leave."

He snorted and she patted his thigh, willingly forgetting to remove her hand after-the-fact.

"I saw Cole earlier," Deacon said. "He accepted a job offer out of town, he and Audrey are moving."

There was a time when Rayna would have known this. One year ago, Coleman and she were still friends. One year ago, she also was married and Maddie wasn't asking her if she thought it was too soon to call Deacon _Dad_. It had been a strange year, to say the least.

"How does it work when you have to get a new sponsor?"

"I'm not sure, we'll see."

Coleman had been his only sponsor all these years. More than his sponsor, he was his friend and he had his trust. Deacon wasn't sure he wanted to start that process all over again, but there was a three-month sobriety chip in his pocket to remind him he wouldn't have much of a choice.

He felt Rayna's thumb stroke his thigh and he was expecting her to further comment on the matter when she announced, without much of a segue, "I'm going to ask for 20 millions from my dad."

He nearly choked on his coffee. She was never short of surprises.

"I need to buy Highway 65 and myself out of Edgehill," she explained. "The new guy poached Will while I was still in the hospital and he's going to harass me until I get back in studio to finish the album. He wants to, I quote, capitalize on the heat since our accident."

"Cynicism is alive and well."

Bucky had warned her not to make hasty decisions because of a wounded pride but it wasn't just Jeff.

She was ready for a new chapter.

* * *

"Girls, Deacon's here!" Rayna shouted through the house.

He closed the door behind him and leaned for a quick kiss. "You look kinda gorgeous."

"Thanks, babe. You look kinda handsome." She played with his bowtie. "And thanks for taking us there."

Lamar, Teddy and a country-club kind of crowd. Of all the places Deacon wished he could avoid, this one was high on the list. Rayna had offered to let the girls accompany her to the symphony gala in honor of their grandmother this year. She had left Deacon out of the invitation knowing he would hate it but would feel pressured to say yes. The girls, on the other hand, hadn't shown such consideration.

"The girls asked, I couldn't say no."

"You _can_ say no to your kids, babe. I'll teach you," she joked. She disappeared into the living room to grab her purse and when she came back, he helped her with her coat. She shouted one more time, "Girls! Now!"

"We're not in a hurry."

"Not too impatient to see Lamar?" she teased. "Little word of warning, we may see more of him in the foreseeable future. He officially agreed to invest in Highway 65 and even if he denied it, I suspect he'll expect something in return." It was her price to pay to be free from Jeff and Edgehill. "So, you know, if you want to run..." she added with a smile.

He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her slowly against him. In the most unhurried way, he leaned to kiss her.

"I'll take my chances."

* * *

They had barely set foot inside Two Old Hippies when a perky, voluble Peggy stormed their way. "Rayna! Deacon! Parking is a nightmare, isn't it? We saved you two spots up front. That way Maddie only has to look one place to see her family." She turned on heels and left to get back to Teddy before either of them could utter a word.

"What the hell was that?" Deacon inquired.

"Welcome to the Upside Down, babe, where you, me, Teddy and Peggy are one big happy family," Rayna deadpanned.

She grinned as she slid her arm around his and let him lead them to their seats. They exchanged quick greetings with Teddy as the host began to speak.

"Good afternoon and welcome to Two Old Hippies, home of peace, love, and rock'n'roll. Beautiful Sunday, and we've got a great kids open mic for y'all. Our first performer today, ladies and gentlemen, is Maddie Conrad."

Maddie made her way onstage, Rayna's old guitar around her neck. "Sorry, I'm really not used to singing alone. My sister usually does it with me. The song I chose is not one I wrote but one I've been listening to a lot lately. It's called _A Life That's Good_."

Rayna and Deacon glanced at each other.

"Did you..." Rayna mouthed.

"No."

Of all the songs their daughter could have picked.

It was when it properly dawned on Rayna. She was sitting next to Deacon, listening to their daughter sing the first song he ever wrote for her, the song that made her fall in love with him, and he knew. _He knew_. She had cried herself to sleep about that for a year, she wanted it so bad. She had spent countless restless nights torturing herself to know if she had made the right decision.

She felt his hand slide in hers.

It was starting now.

Their life that's good was starting now.

* * *

 _TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

"Teddy is an asshole."

"I'm going to need more information here, babe." Rayna was on one leg, her phone stuck between her ear and shoulder while she tried to put her boots on.

"He canceled my spot at the festival. My name disappeared from the list."

Rayna didn't bother to suggest it could be a genuine mistake. Whether it was about their daughter asking for guitar lessons or Deacon considering moving in with her and the girls, Teddy was turning everything into conflict lately. She had made an attempt at an up-front, honest conversation with him in hope to quell his fears about Maddie. Judging by Deacon's phone call, it had been a waste of time.

She put her phone on the hallway table and turned the speaker on so she could grab her jacket. "I'm about to leave for Soundcheck. Do you want me to call him?"

"Don't bother. I'm with Gunnar and I may have an idea."

* * *

Rayna had done something stupid. Something really stupid.

She had read Edgehill's market research.

It said _Better Days_ wasn't the single to launch her album, worse, it said there was not a single on the album. Liam, true to form, had advised her to burn that research, to trust the vision. They were the artists, they had made the album they wanted to make and they hadn't thought about any of that stuff. Except that now it was her label and she had to think about that stuff. They were trying to create some buzz around Scarlett and get her a fanbase before she stepped into the studio, they also were in the process of finding other acts, but at the moment, the future of her label rested on the success of her album.

"No pressure," she had sarcastically told Bucky.

In a less than subtle way, he had then reminded her of a time she and a certain someone used to knock out future number ones between dessert and coffee.

* * *

"Thank you, we'll get back to you." Bucky closed the door on the last artist they had planned to see for the day. He turned to Rayna who shook her head.

"No. They're all talented but I'm just not... feeling it."

She rubbed her neck, groaned at the frustration of yet another fruitless auditioning session. Marshall and Jeff had deemed her venture nothing more than a vanity project, an opportunity for her to put her stamp of approval on artists she believed in. She was all intent on proving them wrong.

"We'll get there," Bucky promised as he strolled back to his chair.

Rayna reached for the half-empty plate of fruits in front of her, seemed to consider it until she put it back on the table.

"What do you think of Sadie Stone?" she asked. "I know she's looking for a label."

"She'd be a huge get." He pondered his next words. "Isn't she a bit out of our league for the moment?"

It was the answer Rayna had anticipated and what had kept her from mentioning Sadie's name before.

"Maybe we'll have more leverage once your album will be out," Bucky offered.

"She'll be signed elsewhere by then. Can you get us a meeting with her?"

"I can try."

Rayna's phone lit up to a laconic _We need to talk_ from Teddy. She had a feeling her day wasn't about to get better.

"Do your magic, Buck."

* * *

Rayna hopped up to sit in the back of Deacon's truck, her legs hanging over the edge. When he had told her he might have an idea, it wasn't what she had imagined. They were on a parking lot owned by one of Deacon's friends right outside the redundantly named Music City Music Festival. A buzzing, good-natured crowd was gathered in front of a small stage lit by bright spotlights.

She watched Deacon make his way to her, a red plastic cup in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He had barely finished his set when Peggy and a sullen Teddy had showed up to take Maddie and Daphne home as planned.

"Beer is all I've found here but I'll gladly make a trip inside the festival if you want something else."

"It's fine."

Beer in the back of Deacon's truck at some questionably legal show. It felt like 20 years ago.

He settled besides her, his leg warm against hers.

"You make a real good front man, babe."

"I learned from the best."

She couldn't help a smile. "Is this a thing now, you going solo? Should we talk about it?"

"It's not a _thing_ , Ray. The spot at the festival was a favor and then I only put this together to help Gunnar."

"And to stick it to Teddy."

"Maybe."

They would need to talk about that later. Or not.

She played with the plastic cup, runned a finger absently around the rim. "If it turns out not to be a one-time thing, you know I have a label now."

He could have tried his luck more than once over the years but he had never shown interest in pursuing a solo career. It wasn't out of fear or lack of self-worth. "You and music are all I need," he used to tell her back then. _I don't need fame, no one to know my name_ ; she had known this about him from the moment they met.

"I think I may be a little old for that."

"Nonsense."

"And you may be a little biased."

"I am not," she pretended to gasp in outrage.

He grinned. He sure hoped she _was_.

She leaned against him and his arm wrapped around her. She laced their fingers, kissed the inside of his wrist. "Maybe you should think about it, babe."

He looked at Rayna pressed against him, her head in the crook of his neck, and he thought how _solo_ at the moment couldn't possibly sound any less tempting.

* * *

Rayna sat cross-legged on Deacon's bed. She was wearing his shirt, a pencil was holding her hair into a messy bun and a second one in her hand was tapping repeatedly against a lyrics notepad.

Their songwriting session had begun on his couch until the matter of _I Shouldn't Love You_ had randomly popped up in the conversation. He was convinced they had written it on his living room's floor. She had made a point of _showing_ him just how wrong he was.

"In your eyes?" she asked.

"I dunno." Deacon laid on his back in his boxers, his feet crossed and propped up on the window ledge at the top of his bed.

"In you heart? In your mind?"

"In you hair?" he mocked.

"Shut up." She threw her pencil at him. He grinned before he stole her notepad and pinned her down on the bed. "We haven't even finished one verse," she protested, yet with a blatant lack of conviction as her leg wrapped around him on its own volition and he stroked her thigh.

"No but we've made very good use of all this _wasted_ time, baby."

He started to unbutton her shirt.

"Oh, wait," she said suddenly and she slipped from under him to gather her scattered pencil and notepad.

He should have been confused but he knew better by now. He once had told Juliette this wasn't how songs got written. For Rayna and him, this was precisely how songs got written. He smiled as he sat up and watched her scribble lyrics down. She was engrossed in her task, singing the words under her breath as she wrote them down.

"Do you want to try it?" he asked.

"Yes, please." He tucked a finger under her chin, drew her attention away from the notepad for a brief instant so he could kiss her. She smiled. "Thanks, babe."

He picked up his guitar from the floor next to his bed.

"Let's do this."

* * *

Rayna threw a quick look at the dark street behind her. She rang the bell one more time. There was muffled noise on the other side of the door before it openend to a concerned, half-awake Bucky.

"Ray? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's..." He looked at his watch. "3:15."

"I know, but Deacon and I finished this 30 minutes ago and I just... I just needed you to hear it." She handed him a CD. She was wired, exhilarated. "It's an acoustic version we recorded in a rush. But I've got it, Buck. I've got my perfect single for the album."

"I... okay," Bucky said. "Do you want to come in?"

"No, just tell me what you think once you'll have listened."

"Alright."

"Goodnight, Buck," she shouted, already on her way back to her car.

He smiled as he closed the door.

* * *

 _TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

Rayna had always known it was going to happen. Not once, though, had she thought it was going to happen like _this_ : their daughter herself posting a video online.

 _This is a song I wrote with my dad, Deacon Claybourne._

It wasn't an accident, a slip of the tongue, it was deliberate. Maddie had decided she wanted the world to find out and this was how she had chosen to announce it. With a song. Of course, with a song. She was Rayna Jaymes and Deacon Claybourne's daughter after all.

 _The shadows of regret  
The ghost of things we said  
They've got me dead to right  
And I can't sleep tonight_

To no one's surprise, the video had gone viral in no time.

Calls from the press had started to pour in and before Rayna and Deacon knew it, a bunch of reporters had set up camp outside their front gate. While they had gone pick up the girls from school, Bucky had called her publicist and everyone plus Teddy were now gathered in their kitchen, trying to decide on their next move.

If it had been up to Rayna, they would have settled for a press release saying this was a personal matter and asking everyone to respect their privacy. A polished, PR-approved version of _go fuck yourself, this is none of your business_.

Teddy, Bucky and her publicist all argued a statement wasn't going to be enough, not in this day and age, not with this 24-hour news cycle. It wasn't going to go away by itself. Teddy suggested a press conference. Bucky insisted they needed to think bigger and plan a joint interview on GMA.

Deacon, all this time, had remained quiet.

While everyone else in the room seemed to agree they needed to confront this head on, control the conversation if they wanted to put it to an end, Rayna knew what it meant for him. Not that it was going to be easy for her or Teddy, but asking Deacon to go on television to talk about how and why he had missed 13 years of his daughter's life was bordering on cruel.

She turned to him and they locked eyes while the discussion kept going around them. They had mastered those silent looks over the years, from stages to dinners with her family to rooms full of press people at all kinds of industry events. Hers was saying she was sorry, she wished she could spare him that. His was saying he knew, just as he knew there was no way around it.

"Love you," she mouthed.

He knew that too, he knew that before he knew anything else.

* * *

Rayna stepped outside and slid the glass door closed behind her. She looked at where Maddie was sitting on the porch's stairs, her back to the cabin and her earphones on. A light fog was rolling off the lake, creeping its way up to them. She had forgotten how peaceful it could get here at night. She used to love the quietness and solitude of this place.

It was late afternoon when Rayna and Deacon had decided, on a whim, to pack the car, pick up the girls at school and drive to the cabin for the weekend. Rayna wanted them to escape the media frenzy of the last couple of days. After the tell-all interview she had done with Deacon and Teddy earlier, she was expecting it to wear down before they would be back on Monday. She was hoping it would, anyway.

It was the first time they had brought the girls here. It was the first time _she_ had come here in more than 14 years. Last time she had stood on this porch, she had made a decision whose long-term consequences were, in a twisted way, the reason they were back here today.

Maddie seemed lost in her thoughts and Rayna tried not to startle her as she sat besides her. She pointed at one of the earphones and Maddie held it out to her.

 _I'll be your Emmylou and I'll be your June  
If you'll be my Gram and my Johnny too  
No, I'm not asking much of you  
Just sing, little darling, sing with me_

"It's gorgeous." The only response she got out of her daughter was a nod. "Honey," Rayna ventured, tentatively, as they both removed their earphone, "I need us to be able to talk about all this."

Maddie had mostly kept mute about the events of these last two days despite her mom's repeated attempts at discussing it with her. Between hers and Deacon's genes, Rayna couldn't pretend to be surprised their daughter was predisposed to stubbornness.

Maddie drew her legs up, rested her chin on her knees. "Did you ever regret getting pregnant?"

This caught Rayna off guard. She would have hoped it to be some typical teenage attempt at dramatics but her daughter's tone suggested the question was genuine. Her voice quavered all of sudden, she fought back tears, "Don't you ever, ever say that. Don't you even think it."

Maddie's eyes welled up and she nodded.

"Honey," Rayna spoke slowly, weighing her words, "maybe you weren't _planned_ but you were _wanted_." If she could only begin to explain to her how much.

"I'm sorry," her daughter finally admitted. "I was just mad and frustrated, and I... screwed up."

"It happens." Rayna reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Maddie's ear. "Sweetheart, the only reason I wished it hadn't happened, or at least that it hadn't happened _like this_ , is because I don't want people you don't even know weighing in on your life. People can be cruel and heartless. I don't want that for you."

Maddie scooted over closer to her. They sat in silence for a while.

"I like this place."

Rayna couldn't help a smile. "Yeah? Me too. Your dad bought it for me, a long time ago." There were many memories she had hoped to be someday able to share with her daughter about this place. "I'm glad I was finally able to bring you here."

* * *

Rayna rolled on to her side. In the dark, she couldn't tell if he was still awake. She called out softly, "Deacon?"

"Yeah?"

They had come here to hide but this place had revealed itself to be full of ghosts they hadn't thoroughly dealt with yet.

"Why—" she began and stopped, not knowing how to start this conversation. He waited for her to find the words. "Why did it work? The fifth time. Why... why did it only work once I was out of your life?"

She had asked herself this so many times. It made no sense to her, it felt like some cruel joke of fate. _I'm used to say I got sober for myself, that's what I'm supposed to say, but truth is I only got sober for you_ , he had told her once on a tour bus a few years ago when they had been away from home for a little too long and sitting on a couch a little too close. Why then had it only happen when it was too late for them.

He had asked himself this as many times. "I'm not sure I have an answer to that."

He was laying on his back and she moved closer, set her head on his shoulder as his arm closed around her. His fingertips started to stroke her hip lightly.

"I don't remember, Ray."

"Don't remember what?"

"Where I was the night our daughter was born."

"Deacon—"

"She asked me and I told her I was on the road but I just... I can't remember."

He didn't remember that night, he didn't remember much of anything about that whole year if he was going to be honest. _I swear, this is the last time._ Four times, Rayna had believed him, waited for him. That fifth time, it wasn't about him anymore, it was about their daughter and she had made the one choice she thought was the best for Maddie. How could he ever blame her for that.

He hadn't deserved to be a father back then but he intended to be one now, and if there was ever one promise he meant to keep, it was this one.

* * *

 _TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

Deacon strode around his parked truck and stepped on the sidewalk. He stopped to take a look at the building in front of him. The street-level storefront windows and the glass on the door were covered with brown paper, there was no sign or name anywhere.

He took his phone out of his pocket and read Rayna's text again, a laconic _Lunch?_ followed by an unfamiliar address. He double-checked the street number before he pressed Rayna's name on the screen and waited for her distinctive, "Hey, babe."

"I'm here."

"One sec," she announced before she hung up.

He'd been happy to see her text. Since the events with Maddie, there hadn't been much that had seemed able to dampen her good mood. Lately though, something in her attitude had changed. She had seemed distant, had seemed to pick fights for the most insignificant reasons. He had first blamed it on work. Her single was scheduled to be released next week, her album's launch concert at LP Field would follow soon and between these, the rehearsals for the tour and her various meetings for Highway 65, she had barely time to breathe. He had then started to suspect there might be something else, but he'd been reluctant to confront her about it. In consideration of his long-time tendency to sabotage his own happiness, a little voice in his head had been urging him to shut up and let it pass.

The door opened and Rayna slid out, fast enough so that he wouldn't glance inside. She greeted him with a kiss. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Come on." He raised a suspicious eyebrow but complied. She took his hand, leading him inside. "Alright, you can look."

They were in a large, open interior space with concrete columns and unpainted walls. Sunlight was flooding in through high horizontal windows, the whole place was empty barring a plaid blanket thrown on the ground and takeaway boxes laying on it.

"I need you to use your imagination for now but welcome to the future home of Highway 65."

Deacon followed her as she started to walk around, telling him how she planned to keep the space as open as possible by using glass walls, showing him where she envisioned her office and where they would build a small stage for showcases. She was impassioned in her explanation, making wide gestures with her hands and he loved to see her like this.

"I guess this will be the lunch room?" he joked, gesturing to her little picnic setup.

"Sorry about the lack of furniture but it was more of a... spontaneous idea."

He noted a perceptible change in her stance and he quickly leaned down for a kiss, not wanting the all-around good mood to shift. "It's perfect."

"Hungry?"

"Absolutely." They sat down, cross-legged and facing each other, and he chuckled when he noticed the little candle in the middle of the boxes. He took a lighter out of his pocket. "Shall I?"

"Please."

She took disposable forks and napkins out of a paper bag and shared them out. They started to eat in silence.

"Rayna?"

"Mmm?"

He could already feel it was a bad idea. "Lately, you've seemed..." He paused, trying to pick his words carefully. "Preoccupied."

"I know."

"Is this about work or...?"

"It's not about work."

He waited for her to continue but she kept mute. "I was under the impression things were going great."

"Things _are_ going great." Her tone sounded accusatory. He was lost.

"Then, what—"

"We could have had this, all this time," she blurted out, finally. "If I had told you, we could..." She stopped, her voice on the verge of breaking.

"Ray—"

"I know. _I know._ " She was avoiding his gaze. "It's just that... when I see us now, when I see you with the girls, it hurts. I can't help it, it hurts."

It had been easier not to think about _what could have been_ when she wasn't living it every day, easier not to think that maybe, just maybe, telling him would have been the very thing that would have made him stop drinking.

It wouldn't have. Her mind knew that. But her heart, lately, was having a hard time catching up.

He put one hand on each of her knees and she finally looked up to meet his gaze. "It's not you, babe, it's me." He winced at her words and she realized what she'd just said. "No, I mean... There's nothing you can do. It will pass." She covered his hands with hers. "I promise, it will pass."

* * *

Rayna took a sip of wine and leaned back against the bar. It was her first quiet moment of the evening. The room had only just started to clear out, much later than she had expected, and she had thrown enough of those single's launch parties to know it was a good sign. Little groups of people were still gathered here and there and she spotted Liam McGuinnis and Sadie Stone sitting on the edge of the stage, engrossed in their conversation.

Liam had agreed to finish the mix on a short deadline, yet not without first pretending to be offended Rayna had turned to Deacon to write the single for what he called _our_ album. "You're lucky I'm such a pushover," he had told her with his usual roguish, handsome grin. She'd had to snort and remind him he was the guy she had once watched lay down in the middle of an arena's stage and refuse to get up until Juliette Barnes would leave soundcheck. _Pushover_ was not the first word that came to mind about him.

Rayna glanced around trying to locate Deacon when she saw him sneak back inside through one of the side doors. He walked to the now mostly unoccupied space with small half-circle couches and low tables at the other end of the room. She grabbed her glass from the counter and headed his way.

"Busted."

He looked up. "I'd had my quota of small talk for the evening."

"Tired of hearing compliments about our song?" she teased as she bent down to put her glass on the table. She removed her heels and let herself fall next to him on the couch. "We should be good to go soon."

"Saw everyone you needed to see?"

"I hope so." She reached for her drink, shifted on the couch so she was looking at him. "Thanks, babe, for being here tonight." She knew it was never his favorite part of the job.

"Of course."

He smiled then and she gave him a questioning stare. "What?"

"Remember, back in the day, when you made me quiz you on who's who?"

"I do." She seemed to recall something and she started rummaging through her purse until she found a worn-out, dark red guitar pick. "Remember this?"

They had gotten their first official invitation to an industry event with influential deciders and she had been a ball of nerves all day. At the last minute, she had almost decided to bail but he had made her sit down and take a deep breath. He had reached for his wallet and taken the guitar pick out.

"For you."

"No, I know it's your lucky pick."

"I've met you. I don't need it anymore."

She had called him cheesy then and he had pretended to be offended and try to grab the pick back but she had stopped him with a kiss. She had put it in her purse.

"You've kept it?"

"Always." She paused. "But I have you now. Maybe I don't need it anymore."

He grinned before he closed the gap between them to kiss her. When she pulled back, his hand was on her thigh, toying with the hem of her dress just above her knee.

As he watched her drop the pick in her purse once again, he couldn't help but wonder how many things from their past were still wrapped in boxes, gathered somewhere in her house. There was one thing, one particular thing that he knew for a fact had stayed in her possession. They were getting ready for bed one night when he had noticed it, laying on the velvet bottom of her jewellery case. "I always thought we might need it someday," she had told him without a flinch, like it was the most natural thing she had kept his ring for 14 years while she was married to another man. They had never talked about it again but he hoped they would need it someday soon.

He knew they would need it someday soon.

* * *

 _TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I wanted to thank everyone who left a review for "What Would You Change?" and "Truth Is I Was on the Road to Hell".  
_

* * *

"Come on in."

Rayna waited a few seconds, but nothing happened. The noise from the hallway was probably covering her voice. She got up and went to open her dressing room's door to a smiling Sadie.

"Bucky mentioned you wanted to see me?"

They hugged before Rayna moved aside to let her in. "Yeah, let's sit," she suggested, gesturing to the couch. "I wanted to let you know that we've finalized the last contract details with Liam and he'll be available to get in studio with you as soon as you and I get back from the first leg of the tour."

An extensive conversation on the Ryman stage and oysters at the Southern were what it'd taken to persuade Sadie Stone to join Rayna Jaymes' label. Barely 30 hours and some legal negotiations later, they were performing a surprise duet at Sadie's show and the latter was announcing she'd signed with Highway 65. Rayna had then introduced her to Liam at her single's launch party and the two had hit it off well enough that it hadn't been too difficult – at least not by Liam's standards – to convince him to produce her upcoming album.

"Perfect timing."

"It seems stars align for this album." Rayna watched Sadie light up at her words. "You look like you're in a great mood," she mused.

"I am," Sadie conceded, yet not willing to elaborate further. "And you," she dodged, "you look... way too calm. I'm a bundle of nerves before a show."

Rayna couldn't remember the last time she'd suffered from stage fright. Tonight was different, though, and she might have had cause to be anxious, but her single was outperforming, the tour was almost sold-out, and these two good news had put some pressure off her album's launch concert. Bucky and she had spent the past week dealing with the press and supervising the last-minute preparations and she felt as ready as one could be.

There was more to her calm, too. She'd found herself experiencing a newfound peace, a reinforced sense of perspective these days. For years, she'd been living with this secret weighing upon her. Only recently had she fully realized that it was over. Truly over. Not only was she free of the lies and the constant guilt, but she'd come out of it with what she'd always hoped for, a second chance at a family life with Deacon.

"I won't let anything ruin this evening. Champagne?" she proposed.

"Please."

She got up to retrieve an already opened bottle from an ice bucket sitting on the buffet tray. She poured two flutes and walked back to the couch. She handed one glass to Sadie before she announced, "To Highway 65 and its kickass roster."

"Cheers to that!"

There was a knock and Bucky's head appeared in the half-open doorway.

"Ray, you—" He stopped when he saw them. "Since when do you drink _before_ a show?"

"Since I'm launching the first album on my own label, a dream I've had since I was, what, 16?"

He smiled. "Ten-minute warning," he said, closing the door again.

"I better leave you to it," Sadie offered, already up. "Rain check?" she asked, pointing to the glasses on the coffee table.

"Absolutely. Thank you, sweetheart."

Sadie headed for the door and Rayna fell back against the couch. She loved these brief moments alone before a show, before being thrown into the frenzy of it all. She had time to think. About everything and nothing. About the girls.

About Deacon.

She caught herself smiling. She reached for the ring on her right hand, slid it off and put it on her left hand.

They'd done it in private, about ten days ago, just the two of them. On a whim, she would say, although she wasn't sure that, after 25 years, _on a whim_ was the right choice of words for anything regarding their relationship. There would be a real wedding, of course, for their family, their friends, and to some extent, for the fans, because once an announcement would be made, she knew she wouldn't avoid playing the press game. But for now, it was theirs. Only they knew what they'd gone through to get there and they'd decided they deserved to have this wedding belong to them, at least for a little while.

She switched the ring back, and took a deep breath. "Let's do this," she spoke aloud, as she got up.

* * *

Her dressing room was buzzing with loud conversations, the clinking of glasses, and general cheerfulness when Deacon made his entrance. One glance at him and she knew something was wrong. The somber look on his face was a strong contrast to the beaming smile he was sporting 10 minutes ago when they had left the stage.

She frowned. "Babe?"

He addressed the room, loud enough so everyone would hear. "Can you guys give us a minute?"

People shared confused looks while starting to head toward the exit. She was by his side, her concern growing by the second, when he closed the door on the last person. He turned to her and his face stretched into a huge, wicked grin.

"Wh—?"

"I just wanted a few minutes alone with you," he explained, sliding his arms around her waist and kissing her before she had time to respond.

She broke the kiss. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She pushed him backward while trying to look accordingly indignant but her smile gave her away. She grabbed his shirt and dragged him back to her. "Idiot."

"Uh-huh," he confirmed. He kissed her again, prompting no opposition this time. "Congratulations, baby," he spoke softly, "I know it's always been a dream of yours."

He'd certainly been there long enough to know that. She realized that what her younger self would have put on a _Where do you see yourself?_ list might have looked a lot like her life at the moment. The path to get there, though, had been more tortuous than she could have ever guessed.

"Thanks, my love."

"So, what are the chances we can skip the afterparty?"

"Non-existant."

"Bummer."

"But," she emphasized, "I think we can manage an early escape after a quick tour of the room."

"Sold."

* * *

"Babe, I didn't pay attention but we missed the exit." She was about to call out their driver when Deacon stopped her.

"I believe that's the right way to the airport."

"No, we—" she stopped when she realized what he'd just said. She smiled. "What?"

"Oh, right, I may have omitted to tell you. We're going away for a few days."

"We are?"

"Uh-huh."

"Any particular destination?" she asked with feigned detachment.

"Check your purse."

She raised an eyebrow and started looking through the black leather bag laying on the seat next to her. She pulled an hotel brochure out of it. She couldn't help the giggle. "St. Lucia?"

"I think you've been cheated of a vacation there not so long ago."

"Whose fault."

"Yours only, to the best of my recollection." They both grinned at the memory.

"A spontaneous honeymoon for our spontaneous wedding?"

"Something like that. I had to check your album's early sales numbers with Bucky to see if we could still afford it," he joked.

"And?" she played along.

"We're fine."

"What a relief, babe."

"You're okay with it?" he asked, serious this time. "I know you're not always the biggest fan of surprises."

"Of this kind, I am."

"Good."

"Babe?"

"Mmm?"

"Did _you_ pack for me?"

"I asked Tandy."

"Thank God."

* * *

 _TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

"Passion fruit, lime juice, allspice, and of course, rum in yours," Deacon announced, holding two hurricane glasses as he stepped outside. He put them down on the private patio's table. "I'm going to leave them here since we've proven by now hammocks and cocktails don't make for a great combo."

She chuckled. "Thanks, babe."

He removed the shirt he'd put on ten minutes ago when he'd left for the hotel's bar. He walked toward the hammock Rayna was lying in and climbed inside with unexpected ease.

"Smooth."

"Right? Would almost make us forget about yesterday's unfortunate incident."

She laughed. "Mhm." Her lips found their way to his, a path overly familiar these last couple of days. His hands were still cold from having held the glasses, and when he ran one finger under her breast and down to the waistline of her bikini bottom, she twitched at his touch.

"Hey," he said, like he'd just remembered, "a guy accosted me at the hotel's bar."

"Can't blame him." She grinned and shifted closer to him, one knee sliding between his legs. She brushed one black painted fingernail over his stubble before she started kissing along his jawline, moving to his neck.

"No, I mean, he and his wife recognized us. They're huge fans of yours."

"We should have stuck to my plan and never leave this room," she half-joked.

"Well, he had a request." This caused her to pull back and look at him. She had a feeling she wasn't going to like it. "He asked if we could surprise his wife with a song, and I told him I'd talk to you about it."

She grimaced. "Nooooo, Deacon. Why?"

"It's their honeymoon."

"It's _our_ honeymoon."

"If we spot Dolly around here, I promise I'll go harass her until she sings something for you," he teased, smirking. "Seriously, I think we should do it. I brought a guitar, anyway."

"You always bring a guitar." She sat up, slid her legs outside the hammock and jumped to the ground. She walked alongside the pool to the table where their cocktails were waiting.

"Why are you so against it?" he asked, following her. She'd already sat on one of the cushioned rattan chairs, and he turned another one around so he would face her.

"Because if we do that, there's no way there won't be a pic or a video ending up on social media, and then some journalist will inevitably pick it up. I want privacy. I want to be able to go away with you for a few days without any magazine writing about it."

"I get that, but can't we simply ask them not to post anything?"

"And a few days later, they'll swear they didn't mean to, but they shared it with a friend who shared it with a friend... Trust me." She knew his heart was in the right place, she loved him for that, but she'd grown sensibly more cautious these days when it came to keep her private life, well, private.

He sighed. "Alright, maybe I'm being naive here. Listen, I told him it was far from a sure thing anyway."

She ran one finger on the sugar coated rim of her cocktail glass and licked it.

"Hey," he said, "let's forget about it." He stretched one leg out, slid his foot along her calf. "I liked where this was going."

"You're the one who changed the conversation," she remarked. Her automatic smile, though, told him she wasn't going to hold it against him for long.

"I never know when to shut up."

* * *

Deacon closed the door behind them as Rayna kicked her sandals off and let the beach bag drop to the ground. He saw her squirm and mumble to herself.

"What, baby?"

"I hate sand."

He smirked. Some things never changed. She'd always been more of a pool person than a beach one. She grabbed a pen on the hotel's table, and stuck it between her teeth while she pulled her red mane into a bun. She reached for the pen and skillfully fixed it in her hair. She untied the pareo from her hips before heading outside.

Deacon watched her walk the stairs down into the pool, and it crossed his mind, not for the first time since they'd arrived, that he must have done something really good to deserve this.

Rayna swam across until her arms rested on the opposite edge of the infinity pool. The private patio was overlooking the bay, and the view was stunning with the Pitons towering over the Carribean Sea.

Barely a few seconds later, she felt Deacon's lips brush over her shoulder. She turned around. "Hey." Her arms and legs wrapped around him, her chin settled in the crook of his neck, and she let him drift both of them around the water. She thought about all the times before when she'd said there was nowhere else she'd like to be. She was wrong. Nowhere else was here, with Deacon. The idea of buying out the hotel, flying the girls over and never leaving the island again appeared to be a scenario worth considering.

"I have a feeling I'm going to regret it," she said, and he pulled back to look at her, confused for a second, "but I think we should do it."

"Do what?"

"The song."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Let's do this and I promise not to talk to strangers during our next honeymoon."

"You're planning several of these?" she asked, amused. Not that she was complaining in the least.

"Well, we've got this second wedding coming up."

"Oh, right."

"I've got bad news, though."

"What?"

"It's our last evening here, and if you want to do it, we need to call the guy to plan it, rehearse a song, and—"

"Are you trying to tell me we have to get out of this pool?" she groaned.

"Think about karma, baby. You'll be rewarded in your next life."

"Is that how it works? Then I must have done something _really_ good in my last one." As a means of illustrating her point, she slid one hand between them, while she started nibbling at his ear.

He moaned. Maybe the getting-out-of-the-pool part could wait a little longer.

* * *

Deacon walked into the kitchen to the sight of a busy Rayna navigating between a pancake pan and an open laptop. The pile of CDs next to it, he assumed, were the demos she'd told him about last night.

"How long have you been up?"

"A while." She transfered the cooked pancake to a plate, on top of an already sizeable stack. "Since we got back, my tireless manager has made a point of reminding me we were away for, you know, _five whole days_ ," she mimicked Bucky.

"It's Buck we should send on vacation." He reached for a mug. "Speaking of vacation," he segued, "it's been one week and I haven't seen our pretty faces in any magazine yet."

"So it seems."

He purposefully stood in her way, demanding her full attention. "We could almost say I was, what's the word already, right?"

She looked up, playful. "We could almost say you were, what's the word already, lucky?"

"Is this how our marriage is going to work, I'll never be right, only lucky?"

She flashed him a roguish smile. "You'll be plenty lucky." Her arms wrapped around his neck. He circled her waist, his hands migrating further south.

They turned around when they heard Maddie clear her throat. "I thought we'd set rules around here for _this_ ," she said, pointing an accusative finger as she headed to the fridge. "You're everywhere I look this morning," she added, amused.

"What?"

"You sang for fans when you were in St. Lucia? They posted a video, it's all over Twitter. Everyone's saying how _sweeeeeeet_ of you it was," she mocked.

Rayna closed her eyes and dropped her head in defeat. When she looked up again and stared at him, Deacon felt like his luck had left for a vacation of its own.

"On the bright side... good PR?" he tried to spin it.

"Bucky will be happy. But, babe?"

"Yeah?"

"About our next honeymoon—"

"Miles and miles away from any sign of civilization?"

"Yes."

"Duly noted."

* * *

 _TBC_


End file.
